


5 Times Steve Rogers Was Shy (+1 Time He Wasn't)

by roe87



Series: Steve/Bucky modern au's [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Beefy Bucky Barnes, Canon-Typical Violence, Detective Sam Wilson, Detective Steve Rogers, Detectives, Domestic Fluff, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Schmoop, Shy Steve Rogers, Stripper Bucky Barnes, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-22 09:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: Steve Rogers has been a N.Y.P.D. detective for a long time, and he's been inside a strip club before to interview persons of interest. No big deal.Then a new case sends him and his partner, Sam Wilson, to a different club to interview a male stripper, and Steve knows he's a goner the moment he lays eyes on him.





	1. First Time, and Second Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to the [Hell Yeah Bottom Bucky](http://hellyeahbottombucky.tumblr.com) slack! 
> 
> ~
> 
> Just wanted to note: this fic is mostly fluff, there's briefly described cop/detective canon typical action or violence, VERY brief, and focus on the nice date stuff instead.
> 
> There's some more notes regarding Alexander Pierce in the chapter END NOTES, if you want the spoilers, but he's only mentioned, not really shown.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the story!
> 
> ~

 

 

_(1.)_

 

Strip clubs weren't a new thing to Steve, he'd seen inside them a dozen times already, and they were really no big deal.

Before he became a cop, he'd often wondered why movies or T.V. shows always had the detectives going into strip clubs for no apparent reason, other than to show half naked women onscreen.

When Steve grew into an adult, and made detective before he was thirty, he realised a couple things.

One, that he was actually pretty gay, so strip clubs with half naked women didn't distract him like they did the other cops.

Two, the fact that detectives had to go into strip clubs to get information happened more often than Steve wanted to admit. And he did try to work around it, but if he called persons of interest over the phone, often none of them wanted to speak to cops, and it was easy to hang up on one.

Less easy to avoid cops face to face.

So, there he was, visiting another strip club. Second one this month.

Steve drove the squad car, with Sam, his partner, in shotgun. Sam was pretty straight, so the prospect of going into a strip club on a Tuesday afternoon put a certain spring in his step.

Steve, he just wanted to get the information they needed, and go. This case was dragging on and on, because their main suspect, an older man named Alexander Pierce, was a slippery customer. But they'd heard from a reliable source that Pierce often frequented a club called The Red Room, and spent a lot of time with one stripper in particular.

If they were lucky, they could get Intel on Pierce and catch him before he slipped away again.

Steve found the backstreet they needed and drove slower, so Sam could check building numbers as they drove past.

"Got it," Sam said. "I see a sign above that doorway."

"Great." Steve started looking for a place to park. "Let's hope this leads somewhere."

"Where it needs to lead to after this," Sam said with a chuckle, "is some lunch. I'm starving."

"Okay," Steve agreed. He parked the car on the street a block over, and they got out together. "Let's hope she knows something."

 

 

The stripper wasn't a _she_ at all.

When Steve and Sam entered the dimly lit, rundown club and flashed their badges to the bored-looking bouncer and asked for _Bucky_ , he pointed across the floor to one of the numerous stages, all with ripped, male dancers shaking their booty to the music.

Sam made a _hmm_ noise, halfway between surprise and disappointment.

Steve was far more shocked, and his mouth dropped open. "They're... _guys_?" he directed to the bouncer, who only shrugged.

"I just work here, man." He pointed again to the stage dead center of the floor. "The dancer you want is right there. Got the tattoo on his left arm."

Steve nodded mutely, then he and Sam made their way into the club.

"Well," Sam said sidelong to him, and Steve would've replied but...

Yeah. He was very distracted. Now he knew how his colleagues felt when they went into strip clubs.

Being an afternoon, it wasn't too busy, only a few customers here and there sitting close to the small stages. Platforms, really, barely three feet off the ground. Just the right height for the customers sitting in their chairs to lean their elbows on.

And the customers were mainly white guys in suits, Steve noted. It would be incredibly lucky if they were to find Pierce here, but after a quick scan of the floor Steve didn't think anyone here was quite as old as Pierce.

Steve looked at the stripper they needed to speak to, and was kind of stunned by how gorgeous he was, as the red and pink lights of the club flashed across his near naked form. The guy was tall, lean, and clearly ripped, even though he had his back to them currently, shaking his ass for the two customers at his stage.

An ass clad in sparkly, rainbow print booty shorts. The sparkles caught the light too, distracting Steve even further.

He tried to drag his eyes away and scan the scene in front of him, taking in as much information as he could: this dancer wore heavy looking black boots, whereas the other dancers seemed to favour softer footwear. He moved with precise, calculated movements.

Steve's first instinct was to be wary, and brace himself to give chase if the dancer bolted.

A lot of people bolted from the cops, it was just what happened.

The dancer's left arm was tattooed with a lot of colored, overlapping stars. It seemed unusual, on a guy that big, to have a pretty tattoo.

Steve liked it though, his artist's eye appreciated it. He also appreciated the shoulder length, dark hair that the dancer had; wavy and thick. The sort of hair that looked like it would be soft to touch.

The dancer flicked his hair around as he turned, finally noticing Steve and Sam standing there. He had a little white stick poking out his mouth, and Steve couldn't see what it was at first because of the club's lighting, until the guy grasped it with one hand and pulled out a shiny red lollipop.

Then he grinned wide and called down, "It's ten bucks each to sit at the table, fellas."

His voice was deep and sultry, and seeing him smile made Steve's brain sort of short circuit for a moment. Steve knew he should probably say something, but it really wasn't every day he met someone this... interesting.

Steve's dick was certainly very interested.

The dancer appeared to be waiting for them, and took a step closer. "You guys gonna pay, or what?"

The two customers already sitting by the stage looked up, seemingly annoyed at the interruption, with scrunched up bills clutched in their meaty hands.

When Steve still didn't answer, Sam took over, and flashed his shield. "N.Y.P.D.," he said calmly, as the two customers scrambled out of their chairs and hurried away. "Detectives Wilson, and Rogers. Are you Bucky? We'd like to ask you some questions."

The dancer, Bucky, put a hand on his hip, and gestured with his lollipop to the retreating customers. "Man, look what you did, scaring away the fish. Do you have any idea how slow Tuesdays are?"

Steve found his voice, at last, and quickly said, "Just a few questions, and we can leave you in peace."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah," he said dryly, and stuck the lollipop back in his mouth. "So, whaddaya want?" he asked around the candy, sounding very New Yorker all of a sudden.

Steve was smitten, he knew that much. And he couldn't help smiling up at Bucky as he towered above them on the stage.

Bucky noticed Steve watching, and if by the way he angled his body to Steve and thrust his broad, bare chest out was any indication, he seemed to not mind Steve looking.

Not that Steve meant to stare, but...

An elbow from Sam brought him back to his right mind, and Steve hastily reached into his jacket pocket for the photo of their suspect.

"Do you know this man?" Steve asked, holding up the small candid photo for him to see.

Bucky plucked the photo out his hand, bringing it close to his face to inspect it. "Ah," he said, slapping the photo with his other hand, before offering it back to Steve. "The Robert Redford dude."

"What?" Steve and Sam said in unison.

"That guy," Bucky said, taking the lollipop from his mouth and waving it around. "He's like... Wait, hang on." He made to move to the edge of the stage, and reached his other hand out to Steve. "A little help here?"

Steve clasped Bucky's outstretched hand, offering him support as he gracefully hopped down from the stage.

Steve suspected he hadn't really needed the help, but he didn't mind holding Bucky's hand, nor did he mind the way Bucky grinned at him now they were eye level.

"Thanks," Bucky said, pressing in close to Steve and looking him over. "You're a big guy, huh."

Before Steve could get himself together and answer, Sam cleared his throat.

"Um, right." Steve felt his cheeks flush, and he quickly dropped Bucky's hand. "So, you know him?"

"He's a regular," Bucky said with a shrug, holding his lollipop in the air in a casual manner now. "Why, what's he done?"

"A lot of bad things," Sam said flatly.

"How bad?" Bucky asked, giving them both a damn good poker face. "Parking ticket bad, or _bad_ bad?"

"We can't disclose details of the case," Steve said, "but I can tell you we need to speak to this man as part of our murder investigation."

Bucky's eyebrows flicked up. "Damn. He was a good tipper too." He sighed deeply, and planted one hand on his hip, then pointed at them with his lollipop. "Okay, so, for the sake of good karma, you can ask me about him. But, swear to God, he didn't make a lot of sense whenever he was here, a few too many martinis, you know?"

"We're specifically looking for where he might be _now_ ," Sam informed him.

"Did he mention anywhere he stayed other than midtown?" Steve asked. "Any locations?"

"Hmm." Bucky made a face, thinking.

Steve waited, as did Sam.

Just when Steve thought that this trip had been a dead end, Bucky looked like he remembered something.

"You know," Bucky said, "he did go on and on about a yacht he supposedly had. Or, a boat of some sort, out on the docks? I don't know exactly, but I do remember what he said it was called, whether that's true or not. These guys sure talk a lot of crap."

"What's it called?" Sam asked, opening up his notepad.

Bucky grinned in amusement. "He said it was called Sundance, or Sundancer? Something like that."

"That's great," Steve said. "And do you remember the last time you saw him?"

Bucky shook his head. "Nah, he hasn't been in for at least a week. That was the last time."

Steve nodded. "Okay, thank you."

Bucky shrugged a shoulder. "Don't tell him it was me if you do catch him. I'd rather not lose another customer if you don't end up arresting him."

"We'll keep it confidential," Steve promised.

Sam nodded too, and put his notepad away. "Did he give his name as Robert Redford?"

Bucky laughed. "No, that's just what I call him. Don't you think he looks like him?"

Sam shrugged. "He looks like an old white guy."

Bucky laughed again, a loud and dirty laugh, and Steve loved it.

"You're not wrong, I guess," Bucky said, then gestured at Steve with his lollipop. " _He_ looks like a young Robert Redford."

Sam made a face at Steve that said he was finding this highly amusing. "Does he now?"

"Yeah, don't you think?" Bucky said, slowly looking Steve up and down.

"Is that... good?" Steve asked, feeling a full body flush come on.

Bucky looked up, meeting Steve's eyes. He flashed a playful smile. "Yeah, I'd say. Haven't you seen a young Robert Redford? He was hot."

"He was?" Steve swallowed, trying to picture the actor in his mind.

Sam interjected, "Don't bother, he lives in a bubble. You can Google him later, Detective, but we better go."

"Uh, right." Steve nodded, then looked back to Bucky. "Uh, thank you for, um, all your help."

"No sweat." Bucky smiled at him, then leaned in close to say, "And you're way cuter than Robert Redford."

Steve opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Bucky drew back, and winked at him. "Have a good day, Detective," he drawled out, before putting the lollipop back into his mouth.

"Uh," Steve managed.

Beside him, Sam had to turn away to hide his grin.

"You, um, you have a good day too," Steve managed to say, unable to tear his eyes away from Bucky.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, perhaps amused at Steve's lack of social skills. He very slowly pulled the lollipop from his mouth with a wet pop. "Maybe you should give me your card?" he suggested. "In case I remember anything else for you?"

"That's actually a good idea," Sam said, still trying not to grin.

Steve fished in his pockets for one of his cards, and handed it over. Bucky took it and read the card, before slipping it into the waistband of his short shorts.

Steve's eyes nearly bugged out, and he hastily looked away before Bucky caught him staring at his junk.

He really had to leave.

"Uh, thank you," he said again. "Goodbye!"

"Bye," Bucky said, waving them off.

Sam actually snorted a little as they hurried out of the club, trying not to laugh.

"Shut up, Sam," Steve told him.

When they got out onto the street again, Sam laughed properly. "Oh, God," he wheezed, as they got into the car. "Oh, God. Robert Redford!" He burst into peals of laughter all over again.

Steve tried to ignore him, and picked up the car radio. "I'll radio the squad room, see if they can find anything on a boat called Sundance, or similar. I guess we should head down to the docks, unless we get another lead. It'll take us a while to get there."

Sam nodded, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Maybe you'll get yourself together by then," Steve griped.

"Maybe _you'll_ get yourself together," Sam countered. "I think I actually saw heart eyes as you were talking to him, Rogers."

"Just... shut up," Steve said, then opened up the radio channel.

They had a suspect to apprehend.

 

 

~

 

_(2.)_

 

 

After Steve and Sam had joined detectives Romanov and Barton for a full scale shoot-out on the docks, they'd managed to apprehend their suspect, Pierce, with only a flesh wound shot to the leg (courtesy of Romanov) so he would live to face his charges and stand trial for murder.

Case closed, for now.

Steve and Sam just had a ton of paperwork to get through, and work on their other caseloads.

They were back at their desks in the squadroom with snacks and coffee. It was going to be a long evening, Steve thought sadly, as he looked at the stacks and stacks of papers on his desk.

"An eventful day, huh?" Natasha Romanov said, acting all casual as she stopped by Steve's and Sam's desk.

Sam grinned up at her, and she grinned back at him before they both turned to grin at Steve.

"Yeah?" Steve said, glancing at them before going back to his papers. "Isn't it always?"

Barton, on the next desk over, wheeled his chair closer and grinned at Steve too. "Heard you guys visited a strip club?"

Steve sighed heavily. "Sam," he scolded, but the good natured chuckles from his team-mates had him smiling too.

They didn't often get a chance to smile in this job. And Steve _had_ enjoyed himself at the strip club.

In fact, he had to make sure his mind didn't wander too much to the dancer, Bucky, in case his enjoyment started to show.

Paperwork, he reminded himself.

 

 

A couple hours later, when desk duty boredom had officially set in, Steve's cell phone rang.

It wasn't a number he recognised, but that happened a lot with his work phone. Steve accepted the call and put the phone to his ear.

"Rogers," he said.

"Hello, Detective," a voice purred in answer.

Steve sat up a little straighter. "Who's this?"

"We met earlier," the voice said, sounding amused. "I was the brunet in the booty shorts."

"Oh," Steve said, eyes immediately darting up to check who might overhear his conversation. Luckily Sam was on the phone too, taking down notes. Clint and Nat were out on a call, and the squad room was noisy, as always.

Steve cleared his throat. "Yes, I remember," he said, his voice softening automatically. Not that he was flirting, but... okay, he was flirting. "How can I help?"

"Mmm," Bucky's voice purred, "well, see, I was trying to figure something out. Maybe you could help me?"

"I'll give it a shot," Steve said, smiling.

Bucky laughed seductively, then said, "See, there's this guy I like, and I thought I'd call him up and ask if he wanted to get dinner with me, but..."

He paused, and Steve held his breath as he listened.

"You still there?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah," Steve breathed out.

"Good." Bucky sounded amused. "That's... good. So, uh, anyway, I wanted to ask him to dinner, but seeing as we only just met, I wasn't sure if he'd think that was too forward. He seems like he might be a bit shy. What do you think?"

"What do I think?" Steve repeated, his voice catching.

"Yeah," Bucky drawled, and Steve pictured him talking on the phone, maybe he was leaning against a wall, and maybe he was twirling a lock of hair around his finger. Whatever he was doing he was bound to look hot doing it.

In his little short shorts.

Dammit, Steve was getting hard again.

He shifted at his desk, trying to avoid looking at anyone in the squad room as he said, "Uh, I- I think anyone would be flattered you asked them."

Bucky's low, dirty laugh in Steve's ear was not helping with his hard-on situation. "Oh, really?" Bucky asked teasingly.

"Yeah," Steve said, and hoped to God that Bucky was talking about _him_. He hadn't read this wrong, had he? Steve knew he was notoriously terrible at dating and reading between the lines.

Ironic for a detective.

"And would it be too forward," Bucky went on, "if I invited myself to his place with take-out? Because, you know, I figured that this was a guy who liked the peace and quiet of being at home, and it would be an easier place for him to hang out."

Steve's eyebrows rose up in surprise. "And... you got all this just from meeting the guy _once?_ "

"Hey, what can I say," Bucky laughed, "I know how to read people. So, what do you say, Detective? You, me, and some Pad Thai?"

"I, uh," Steve inhaled shakily, "yeah, okay."

There was a pause, then Bucky said, "Wow, really? I wasn't sure you'd actually say yes."

Steve grinned, and he tried to think of something witty to say in reply, but Bucky beat him to it.

"So, you free tonight?" he asked.

"After a lot of paperwork, I should be," Steve said. "Providing no emergencies come up."

"Uh huh. You got a car, right? Want to come pick me up at the club when you're finished?"

"Um, like...?"

"You don't have to come in if you don't want," Bucky told him. "You got my number now, just text me when you're outside and I'll come out."

"Um, yeah?" Steve almost couldn't believe this was happening. "Yeah, okay. But what if it's kind of late?"

"I work shifts, Detective," Bucky said. "And I don't mind waiting for you. Just gimme a heads up when you're on your way over, give me time to have a shower and wash all the body oil off."

Steve swallowed, hard. "Y-Yeah," he choked out. "Okay."

"Okay, great!" Bucky sounded pleased. "I'll see you later."

He ended the call, and Steve tried his best to school his expression into something more neutral as he put his phone on his desk, and carefully saved Bucky's number to his contacts.

When he chanced a look up, Sam was still busy on his call, and no one else in the squadroom seemed to have noticed either.

Steve grinned to himself, and got back to his paperwork with a renewed vigor.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~
> 
> Chapter warnings in full:
> 
> Re: Alexander Pierce, being mentioned as a suspect and also as a customer at the strip club where Bucky works, so it's implied he was a customer for Bucky, but no details.
> 
> There's also a running gag about Pierce looking a bit like the actor Robert Redford (lol), and then Steve looking like a much younger Robert Redford (I blame tumblr for that entirely, bc yeah they do a bit??)
> 
> Anyways it's all very brief and Pierce isn't actually in this story.  
> :D


	2. Third Time, and Fourth Time

 

_(3.)_

 

Steve was eager to finish his paperwork and leave the squadroom. He'd been on the clock long enough to not feel too guilty about it, and he also declined the invitation from Sam to get a drink at their favorite bar. Detectives Lang and Van Dyne were already there, so Sam wouldn't be left on his own.

Steve said goodnight, left the precinct and got into his car.

He had a date to pick up.

 

By the time Steve drove over to The Red Room club, it was close to ten PM. He'd already texted Bucky before he left, to give him a heads up, and once Steve found a parking spot close to the club, he texted Bucky again to say he was outside.

Steve didn't get a reply, so he turned the engine off and waited. His heart was thumping away with nerves and excitement. Steve did a lot of exciting things in his line of work, but this...

This was a different kind of exciting.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the side-street entrance where the club was situated, only partially lit by flickering street lamps.

After only a couple minutes, someone appeared on the street, wheeling a suitcase alongside them.

Steve recognised Bucky, and he got out of his car to wave. Bucky spotted him and smiled, then made his way over. The suitcase he had, one of those upright ones on four wheels, trundled quietly along the paving.

Steve couldn't help checking Bucky out as he approached, and seeing him now, dressed in clothes, the heavy black boots made sense. Bucky was dressed in tight black jeans with the knees blown out, and several other well placed holes on the thighs, with a thick silver chain swinging from his pocket. He also wore a snug fitting leather jacket, covered with pins and patches.

He easily looked like he'd been one of the cool kids his whole life, Steve thought, and that alone was a little intimidating, because Steve had never been anything close to that growing up.

But Bucky grinned at Steve like he was pleased to see him, and it was disarming, putting Steve more at ease. Bucky's hair was pulled back in a messy up-do, a stray lock falling in his face.

Steve smiled back shyly, and said, "Hi."

"Hey, Detective," Bucky replied easily. "You ready to go?"

Steve nodded, and tried to sound confident when he said, "Sure."

"Mind if I put this in your trunk?" Bucky gestured to his case. "It's just easier to bring it with me than leave it in the club, you know?"

"Uh, sure," Steve said, and went around the car to open up the trunk. "Nothing breakable?" he asked, as he helped Bucky get it in.

"Nah, mostly clothes." Bucky grinned. "Can't risk them getting stolen."

"Right." Steve shut the trunk door, and gestured for Bucky to get into the passenger seat, while he went around to the driver's side.

When they got into the car, Steve caught the subtle scent of cologne from Bucky, and he was simultaneously touched that Bucky had gone to the trouble, and then worried that he hadn't put on cologne himself.

Relax, he told himself. Or, at least try to relax.

"Um, so..." Steve turned his key in the ignition, trying to think of something to say, and failing.

"Do you wanna give me your address?" Bucky said, fiddling with his phone. "I can look up places to get take-out that's closer to you. Unless you live near here?"

"Uh, no, it's probably thirty, forty minutes drive from here," Steve said. "That's a good idea, actually."

He gave Bucky his address, and left it to him to locate somewhere they could get food. Steve drove as if he were headed for home, and Bucky directed him to a street that was only about fifteen minutes out from where Steve lived.

He told Steve to wait for him while he went and picked up the food, and when Bucky came back with a big bag of food very quickly, Steve realised he must've already ordered it and paid through his phone.

"I'll give you some cash when we get back," Steve told him, driving off again.

"No problem, Detective," Bucky said with a grin. "It's on me."

Steve glanced at him briefly, then had to keep his eyes on the road. "Are you sure?"

"I asked you to dinner," Bucky said, "so it's my treat."

Steve smiled, and there was a bubbly, happy feeling in his chest. "Well... thank you, Bucky. I can't wait to eat."

"Mmmm, me too," Bucky said, sounding amused.

Steve didn't ask, and just drove them home.

 

 

"Nice place," Bucky commented, when Steve let them into his apartment.

Bucky headed in first, carrying the food bag and gazing around at Steve's home.

Steve followed him in, wheeling Bucky's case. He shut the door after him, and set Bucky's case by the sideboard. "Uh, well, it's not much, but-"

"No, it's great," Bucky insisted. "I like what you've done with it."

"Thanks," Steve managed, feeling the blush creep up his cheeks. "Um, I'll just heat some plates for the food."

Bucky huffed a laugh. " _Plates?_ Aren't we going to eat out of the cartons like men?"

"Uh... I don't know?" Steve said, taking off his jacket and shoes. "Are we?"

Bucky grinned, and handed the food bag over to Steve. "I don't mind, Detective. Whatever you prefer is cool with me."

Then he unzipped his leather jacket, revealing a pale blue muscle t-shirt underneath. Bucky hooked his jacket onto the handle of his suitcase, like a small coatstand, and toed off his boots, leaving them next to his case as well.

Steve appreciated having such a tidy guest, and he smiled at Bucky before showing him into the kitchen.

"Hope you like it spicy," Bucky said, helping to unpack the food.

"I'm more a mild to medium guy, I guess," Steve said, and got them some cutlery.

They'd already gotten through the smalltalk on the ride over: had Steve's suspect been caught (yes), did he catch a lot of bad guys (he tried), and how long had Steve been a cop (nearly ten years). In return, Steve had asked if Bucky'd had a good shift (not bad), was the club a good place to work (it was alright), and how long had Bucky been a dancer (about five years after leaving the military).

The ex-military thing seemed to explain the way Bucky moved, Steve thought: calculated and confident. He wanted to ask Bucky more about his service, but thought perhaps now wasn't the time.

It was basically a first date, after all. Better to keep conversation on lighter topics.

When they sat down to eat their meal, Bucky mentioned he was training to be a massage therapist in his spare time, and was looking for more clients to practice on.

He threw a very flirty look Steve's way after saying that, causing Steve to almost drop his fork in surprise.

After recovering himself, Steve nodded along as if Bucky hadn't said something that gave him an instant hard-on. "That sounds... interesting," he said calmly, concentrating on his food, and definitely not on Bucky next to him, who was now grinning in amusement.

"I'm very good with my hands," Bucky stated, and Steve felt the flush rise up his face.

"This food is pretty hot," he said, hoping he could blame his blush on the spices and not his overactive imagination.

Bucky raised one eyebrow, watching him. "Well, you know what they say, hot guys need hot food."

Steve frowned in confusion. "I've... not heard that."

Bucky started laughing, though he tried to smother his mouth with his hand. "Oh, my God," he muttered. "You're the cutest."

Steve's blush increased, but he tried to ignore it. "That's not really a saying, is it?" he teased. "About hot food?"

"No, it's not," Bucky laughed. "Pretty sure I just made it up."

"Oh."

"It's alright, Detective," Bucky said, "I'll quit flirting while you eat your food."

Steve opened his mouth, but there were too many questions he wanted to ask at once.

Bucky took pity on him and said with a wink, "I'll flirt with you again after dinner. Okay?"

Steve smiled, starting to feel more relaxed. "Guess I better finish up, then."

 

~

 

 

_(4.)_

 

 

After dinner, Steve opened a bottle of wine. He'd had a bottle in the refrigerator, which was kind of lucky because he didn't drink much, only on special occasions, or if he had a couple days off and really needed it.

He poured two generous glasses, and they migrated over to the couch.

Bucky was fun to talk to, friendly and flirty at the same time. He managed to get Steve's pulse racing and also put him at ease, which was sort of an odd combination.

And Bucky had been right, Steve did feel more comfortable at home. He even managed to flirt back a little bit.

Well, he tried anyway.

Bucky was sitting side-on so he could watch Steve, and he had very pretty, pale blue eyes, almost gray, and they came alive when he smiled.

Steve smiled back at him, though he got nervous and looked down at his hands after barely making eye contact.

Bucky asked Steve suddenly if he interrogated a lot of suspects, making Steve laugh and effectively breaking the tension.

"Yeah?" Steve said, risking a glance up. Bucky had taken his hair down, and it looked all soft and wavy around his shoulders. "Uh... I mean that's a big part of the job."

"Are you any good?" Bucky asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve chuckled. "I'm better at the direct approach," he admitted. "I have colleagues who are more subtle, but that's something I had to learn."

"I see." Bucky reached over to the coffee table and set his wine glass down next to Steve's, then he settled back into the couch. "Think you could interrogate me?" he asked, as he hooked a leg over Steve's and leaned into him.

"I, uh," Steve stammered, freezing up as Bucky's hands started to fiddle with the collar of his shirt. "Uh, do I need to?" he tried to joke.

Bucky smiled warmly, like he actually found Steve's humor funny.

"I guess you never know," he teased, popping open the top button of Steve's shirt. "You look hot, Detective..." He undid two more buttons of Steve's shirt, opening up the collar. "Let's make you more comfortable."

"That's not usually how an interrogation goes," Steve pointed out, which made Bucky laugh.

God, he was gorgeous, Steve thought.

He watched Bucky's face, his eyes cast down as he focused on Steve's shirt, then he looked up at Steve and smiled. 

"Come on, Detective," he urged. "Play along."

"I said you could call me Steve," Steve told him.

Bucky's grin slid into a smirk. "Oh, I will. Later," he said, as his index finger carefully stroked the exposed skin of Steve's throat. "Go on, Detective. Ask me something."

Steve couldn't exactly concentrate with Bucky touching him like this, but falling back on training was definitely something he knew how to do in a tight spot.

He looked at Bucky calmly for a moment, watching him, then he asked, "Do you have something you want to tell me?"

Bucky barked a laugh in response. "Wait, that's it? That's your big opener?"

"It's a standard opening question," Steve defended, smiling. "I thought you wanted to play along?"

"I do, I do," Bucky said, then made a show of biting his lower lip as he looked up at Steve through his dark lashes. "Mmm, but Detective," he purred, "I'm quite sure I don't know anything incriminating."

"I think you do," Steve answered, and delighted at the look of excitement in Bucky's eyes.

"Well," Bucky said, as he slid his hand inside Steve's shirt, "there may be _one_ thing..."

Steve swallowed. "And what's that?"

"I may have had some very bad thoughts today." Bucky's fingers grazed Steve's nipple before delicately tracing the curve of his pec.

Steve was fully hard in an instant, though the more shy part of his lizard brain was still somewhat in awe that he was probably going to get laid tonight.

He couldn't quite believe his own luck.

"Really?" Steve managed to say. "And what thoughts were these?"

"Thoughts about a handsome detective," Bucky murmured. "Been thinking about him all day, got me all hard and horny too."

A little involuntary noise escaped Steve's throat, and Bucky grinned.

"Have I been a bad boy, Detective? Do you think I should be punished?"

"Uh," Steve said, unable to string a sentence together. All he wanted was to pull Bucky into his lap and kiss him.

Bucky hesitated, and looked to Steve with concern. "Am I moving too fast?" he asked softly.

Steve couldn't hold back any longer, and as Bucky drew away, Steve followed him, eyes fixed on Bucky's plump, pink lips. Steve didn't close the distance entirely, but he made his intent to kiss clear, and thankfully Bucky took the invitation, and met Steve's mouth with his own.

They made out slowly at first, unhurried, their hands roaming all over each other greedily. Bucky unbuttoned the rest of Steve's shirt, opening it up to expose his chest, and Steve slid his hands underneath Bucky's top, squeezing the flesh of his waist.

When Bucky moved himself into Steve's lap, gripping the back of the couch for balance, Steve held him tighter and they resumed their kisses. Bucky started circling his hips, grinding his hard-on into Steve's, and Steve could've come right there had Bucky not stopped and asked him if he wanted to continue in the bedroom.

Steve nodded eagerly, then shuffled forward to the edge of the couch with Bucky still in his lap, took a firm hold under Bucky's ass, and rose to his feet holding him.

Bucky seemed surprised, but reacted quickly by holding onto Steve's shoulders and hooking his legs around his waist.

"Holy shit, Detective," he whispered, clinging on as Steve carried him through his apartment.

"I thought you were gonna call me Steve," he asked, kicking open his bedroom door.

Bucky laughed lowly. "Baby, I'll call you whatever you want when you get me in your bed."

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Fifth Time, and +1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for chapter:
> 
> Just a heads up for some frequent but very briefly mentioned, non graphic, Canon Typical Action/Violence, and discussion of detective work and crime scenes. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy the story!
> 
> ~

_(5)_

 

 

At seven AM, Steve's phone vibrated somewhere on the bedroom floor.

Steve was a light sleeper usually, but after the intense work-out he'd had last night, it took him a solid minute to slowly wake and figure out where the noise was coming from.

_Phone, pants... floor._

Steve sat up in bed, glancing at Bucky but only seeing one bare shoulder, his back, and a mess of dark bed-hair. He hadn't stirred. Steve slipped out of bed and found his phone, accepting the call.

He walked out of the bedroom quickly and closed the door behind him before he answered, "Rogers."

"Hi, Steve," Hill said, "I know you weren't due on until later, but I'm running out of staff to assign cases to."

"It's fine," Steve said, resigned to it already. "What's the case?"

"Double homicide," Hill informed him. "I'll text you the address. Sam's already on his way."

"Okay, I'll leave now," Steve said.

"Oh, and Steve?" Hill said, a note of warning in her voice. "If you haven't had breakfast yet, maybe save it till after you visit the scene. This one sounds pretty bad."

"Understood," he said. "I'll see you later."

After ending the call, Steve's phone bleeped with a text for an address on the lower east side, so now all Steve had to do was get dressed and head over there.

He went into his kitchen first to switch the coffee on, then he headed to the bathroom. There wasn't time to do much, but Steve allowed himself a minute to run a razor over his morning stubble, and freshen up. He'd learned to have a fast routine over the years. Steve put on clean underwear, socks, and an undershirt, then padded back to the bedroom.

Bucky was still asleep, and Steve envied him.

He went to his closet quietly and began getting dressed; clean shirt, clean pants. He glanced over at Bucky a few times, wondering if he should wake him or let him sleep.

Steve was too new at this, he didn't bring a lot of people home, hardly anyone, in fact, and he didn't know what to do. He did know that anything irreplaceable (his father's watch, his mother's gold necklace) or anything dangerous (his spare gun and extra bullets) were all locked away in his hidden safe. Anything else that was valuable, like his flatscreen TV or his tablet were on display in the lounge, but Steve's gut instinct told him that Bucky didn't intend to clean him out while he was gone.

Steve really hoped his gut was right.

He wrote a note for Bucky, and left it on the nightstand. Then he took one last, lingering look at Bucky's face as he slept, then Steve really had to go.

As he went back to the kitchen, Steve couldn't help wonder how different his job would feel if he had someone at home waiting for him.

It wasn't exactly a sociable job, Steve knew that. People he'd tried to date in the past didn't like his long hours, and they didn't like being stood up on dates when he had to work overtime on a case.

Steve expected Bucky would be gone when he got home again, and not being able to say goodbye didn't sit right with him.

Still, he thought, pouring his coffee into a flask, he did know where Bucky worked, and he had his phone number. That was something.

Steve left the apartment and shut the door quietly. He didn't double lock it, in case Bucky couldn't find the spare key on the table, or there was an emergency and he had to get out fast. The door was secure, and the building was also pretty good.

Steve still felt somewhat nervous leaving, but he didn't have much choice.

 

He drove to the address Hill had given him, drinking his coffee on the way as he sat in early morning traffic.

When he got close enough to the address to park, Steve left his coffee in the car and went to find the apartment block's entrance.

Sam was waiting outside, along with plenty of uniformed officers, and the crime scene unit of forensic examiners.

"Steve," Sam greeted, walking up to him. "Good timing, the M.E.'s been in about fifteen minutes, so they should have some more details for us."

"Right," Steve said, and walked alongside Sam as they entered the building. "Any leads yet?"

"A couple." Sam flicked through his notepad. "I'll walk you through it when we're up there. Oh," he stopped and placed a hand on Steve's arm, "did Hill mention...?"

"Don't eat breakfast?" Steve guessed. "Yeah. She told me."

"Good." Sam nodded solemnly. "Or, not good, but you know what I mean. Hill wants us to move fast on this, before the press get wind of it. Last thing the department wants is another copycat killer on the loose."

"Last thing any of us wants," Steve agreed, as they both ducked under the police tape at the crime scene. "Okay, what we got?"

 

~

 

 

It'd been around eight hours since the homicide took pace, and five hours since the bodies had been discovered. It was nearing midday, and Steve was running on several cups of coffee, and only two bits of dry, whole-wheat toast.

His stomach rumbled, and he figured he'd have to eat soon, but looking at crime scenes and then the photos all day had kind of killed his appetite.

They were in the squadroom, pinning photos of people, living and deceased, to the case board, trying to establish suspects, motive, or a pattern.

Steve's stomach growled angrily, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Man, I'm gonna make you some oatmeal if it growls one more time," he threatened.

"I just want to get these photos up," Steve said, flicking through a file from the stack of cold cases they'd dug up, ones that matched the current M.O. "This case from six years back, it could be connected..."

His stomach growled, and Sam got up.

"That's it, Rogers," he said, pointing at Steve as he headed to the squad kitchen. "I'm making you oatmeal."

"Sam, I don't need..."

His phone vibrated in his pocket, cutting off his protest. Steve got out his phone and accepted the call without looking at the screen. "Rogers," he said.

"Hello, Officer," said a familiar voice, "I want to report a missing person."

Steve took a moment to put two and two together, and said in surprise, " _Bucky?_ "

"Oh, good, you remember me," Bucky said teasingly. "Now, back to my missing person. He's white, blond, about six-one, maybe six-two. Smoking hot, and last seen in bed with me. Do you have anybody matching this description?"

"Uh," Steve said, blushing hard, "I, um, I left you a note..." He glanced around at the squadroom, checking he wouldn't be overheard, then said more quietly, "I didn't want to wake you."

"Note?" Bucky questioned. "Where?"

"By the bed."

Bucky hummed, then went quiet before saying, "Oh, here it is... 'Had to go to work, help yourself to breakfast. Steve.' Wait, are you at work?"

Steve smiled. "Yes."

"Oh." Bucky sounded surprised by that, and Steve wondered what he was doing, was he sitting in bed, was he even dressed yet.

Steve flushed a bit harder.

"I didn't realise you were at work," Bucky told him. "Sorry, my brain doesn't come online properly till midday, usually."

Steve grinned to himself. "That's okay. I, um, I'm glad you called."

"You are? So, uh, what time are you coming back?" Bucky asked. "Only... I'm not working today, so..."

Steve closed his eyes and wished he was back home that second. "It's hard to say a time," he admitted. "This case is going to be high profile, and we have to move on it. Either we catch a break and close it today, or someone else picks it up when we have to clock off to go to sleep."

"What time did you go in?" Bucky asked.

"It'll probably get marked down as seven or eight this morning," Steve said.

Bucky whistled lowly. "So, what's the max you guys can do? Twelve, fourteen hours?"

"Try sixteen," Steve told him.

"Man," Bucky murmured. "They work you hard, Detective."

Steve laughed wryly. "It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it."

Bucky hummed thoughtfully. "So, I mean, how would you feel about me waiting for you to get home?"

"It could be a long wait," Steve warned him.

"There's nowhere else I gotta be," Bucky replied. "Hey, maybe you'd like a shoulder rub when you get back? I'm real good at shoulder rubs."

Steve imagined what that would be like, coming home and having Bucky there, waiting for him.

Yes, he thought, he would like that. He'd like that a lot.

"You don't have to give me a massage," Steve said, "but you're welcome to hang out and wait if you want. Help yourself to whatever's in the refrigerator."

Bucky laughed. "Steve," he scoffed, "there's barely anything in your refrigerator, I already looked."

"Oh, shit, yeah. I meant to get groceries."

"Is there a spare key?" Bucky asked. "I can get groceries."

"Yeah, on that side table," Steve said, trusting Bucky. "In the little green pot. I'll text you the code for the building, and there's a bodega or two around the block."

"Sweet," Bucky said, sounding pleased. "Text me your shopping list, and let me know what you want to eat when you get back."

"Um, okay," Steve said, then spotted Sam making his way over with the pot of oatmeal. "I gotta go. I'll text you."

"Sure," Bucky said. "Have a good day, Detective."

"You, too," Steve said, then ended the call and tried to look at Sam with a neutral expression, so as not to give away what an exhilarating phone call he'd just had.

"Here." Sam thrust the oatmeal at him, along with a spoon. "Who was that?"

"Oh, just a friend," Steve said, and quickly shoved a spoonful of hot oatmeal into his mouth as an excuse not to elaborate.

 

~

 

 

After nearly ten hours on the case, Steve and Sam finally got a solid lead which led them straight to a suspect: a delivery driver for a drugstore. They apprehended him going into an apartment building, on his way to his next delivery, and possibly next victim.

They were lucky the suspect didn't have a gun, and after he ran and they gave chase, Steve tackled him down while Sam trained his gun on him. They cuffed him and called it in. There was enough evidence on the man to match him to the double homicide that morning, plus the two cold cases. Hopefully a DNA match would back up their theory.

After taking the suspect back to the station for booking, Steve and Sam had paperwork to finish before they were free to go.

Detectives Lang, Van Dyne, and Danvers were also clocking off, and since it was early evening, they suggested going to a restaurant together to eat.

Steve politely declined, and assured Sam he was fine, he just wanted to get home early.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder and looked Steve in the eyes. "That was a rough case, Steve. Are you sure you want to be alone right now?"

Steve gave him a friendly smile in return. "I'm good, I promise."

"Okay, then." Sam patted his shoulder again then let him go. "I guess if you had any better offers than your squad buddies, you'd tell me about it in your own time, right?"

Steve grinned. "I guess I would."

Sam nodded. "Take care, Steve."

"You, too, Sam."

 

They said their goodbyes, and Steve headed out of the precinct.

Romanov and Barton were on their way in for the night shift, and he said hello and goodbye to them.

Steve texted Bucky before he made the drive home, still pleasantly surprised that Bucky was there waiting for him.

Steve couldn't get home fast enough. It was a welcome distraction from thinking about the case, or humanity in general. Steve often got lost in his own thoughts with this job. It was hard to get some of the crime scene images out of his mind. Going home alone never really helped with that either.

Whereas going home tonight and entering his apartment that already had the lights on, the TV buzzing away with some comedy show, and clattering sounds coming from the kitchen to greet him, warmed parts of Steve's soul that had felt cold for too long.

"Hey," Bucky called, appearing from the kitchen brandishing two big plates of food. "Your New York deli sandwich, as requested. Where do you wanna eat?"

Steve smiled, happy to see Bucky looking casual and sexy in what looked like gym clothes, with his hair tied up.

"Couch?" Steve suggested, shedding his jacket. "I just need to collapse for a while."

"Yeah, I bet you do." Bucky led the way to the couch, and set Steve up with his sandwich on his lap, and a plate of chips, dips and pickles on the coffee table in front of him.

Bucky said he'd discovered the nearby deli, and recounted to Steve his experience getting to taste all the pickles and dips they had on offer.

Steve listened and smiled as he ate, pleased to have the company.

When he was done eating, Bucky cleared his plates away.

"You don't have to wait on me," Steve told him, getting up to follow.

He realised as he entered the kitchen that it had been cleaned: all the dirty dishes that'd been left in the sink were draining on the rack, the surfaces were decluttered, and the refrigerator had been restocked.

"Oh," Steve said, somewhat shocked.

"Yeah, I needed something to do," Bucky said with a shrug, then produced a small paper box from the refrigerator, and Steve recognised the stamp from a local bakery.

Bucky opened the box, revealing two rows of brightly colored macarons.

"I got these to share," he said, "but if you don't like sweet things, I will happily eat them all by myself, and you can watch me."

Steve laughed. "Depends on the flavor?"

"There's a list." Bucky pulled out a little card. "Lots of different flavors. Let's try them."

 

Steve found himself back on the couch, stretched out on his back with his head in Bucky's lap, as Bucky fed him macarons and asked him to guess the flavor. It was exactly what Steve needed to unwind, and he was more than happy for Bucky to stay another night with him.

 

~

 

 

_(+1)_

 

 

Steve and Sam had been working on a case with Nat and Clint for two days straight now, all while trying to balance their other case-loads. Steve had been in court that afternoon to give evidence in a trial, which was also ongoing. By the time he got back to the squadroom, and Sam had filled him in on where they were at with their biggest case, it was fast approaching evening.

Steve's stomach was starting to complain.

As if on cue, he got a phone call from Bucky. Steve smiled as he perched on his desk and answered, "Hey."

"Hey. Have you eaten?" Bucky asked.

"I had lunch," Steve said.

Bucky huffed. "So that's a no. Have you got time now? I was headed into work, but I can stop by that Chinese place that's near the precinct?"

"I don't think I'll have time, Buck," Steve admitted, glancing over at his team-mates huddled around the suspect board. "We're trying to close this case."

"Steve, you need to eat," Bucky told him, with traffic noises in the background as he presumably walked down the street.

"We'll probably just order in," Steve said, then had an idea. "Hey, do you want to come in and eat with me? If you give me your E.T.A, I'll order for when you get here. I can probably spare twenty minutes."

"Ooh, twenty minutes." Bucky laughed, making Steve smile. "Just enough for a bite and a quick grope."

Steve smothered a laugh. "If we're lucky."

Bucky had proven to be pretty easy going about Steve's long hours so far, but seeing as he hadn't left Steve's apartment in two weeks except to go to work or his massage class, they'd managed to make time to see each other at home.

Steve hadn't expected to gain a live-in boyfriend after just one date, but he wasn't unhappy about it either.

And two weeks seemed like a good enough time to come out about it to his team. Sam and Nat were getting suspicious about where Steve was spending all his spare time anyway.

"My partner and colleagues will be here, too," Steve told him.

"They wanna watch?" Bucky joked, then said more seriously, "Are you sure, Steve? No one's gonna arrest me, are they? I know I told you I want you to cuff me, but I meant solely in the bedroom."

"Jesus," Steve whispered, willing himself not to get hot and flustered at Bucky's words. "It'll be fine, Buck. You have an honest job dancing, and you pay your taxes."

Bucky made a considering noise. "I don't... exactly pay taxes on that job, Steve."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Steve said, "and we'll discuss this later."

Bucky laughed. "Am I in trouble, Detective? Are you gonna put me in the interrogation room and find out how naughty I've been?"

"Bucky," Steve scolded, but he was grinning. "Just come in and eat with us. I want them to meet you."

"Alright, alright," he relented. "I can be there in maybe a half hour. Do I just walk right in, or what?"

"Go to the station's main entrance, tell the front desk you're here to see me, and go up to floor five."

"Okay," Bucky said. "If you're sure."

"Sure I'm sure. See you soon."

 

 

Steve ordered for all of them who wanted to eat: him, Sam, Nat and Clint. They often ordered food in if they were busy. It was just easier.

Steve handed out the cartons of Chinese food when it arrived, and they sat down to eat at their desks, still talking about the only leads they had on the case.

The squadroom was relatively quiet, in between shift changes, and with a lot of the squad out on calls. It was a Friday night, so they were often, unfortunately, busy.

Steve kept glancing over to the door, waiting for Bucky to arrive. He'd likely only have his sportsbag on him, with a few changes of sparkly short shorts inside, and a clean towel.

Bucky's suitcase was back at the apartment, having migrated into the bedroom. All the regular clothes Bucky had were now hanging up in Steve's closet alongside his own.

That was the thing, Bucky had admitted he was between places to live, which was why he had the suitcase on him in the first place.

Steve didn't mind Bucky staying with him. In fact, Steve liked having Bucky at home. But he'd imagined what his team-mates, especially Sam and Nat, might warn him about if they found out Steve had let a guy he'd only just met move right in.

But Steve was still trusting his gut, and so far it'd been a really nice two weeks of coming home either to dinner waiting for him in the oven if bucky was working, or Bucky was there waiting himself. They ate together, snuggled on the couch and watched TV together, and also had lots of sex.

Steve was very happy right now.

"What's up?" Sam asked, sitting across from Steve. "You keep glancing at the door."

"Oh, I've got someone coming by," Steve said.

Sam looked hopeful. "A lead?"

"I'm afraid not," Steve told him.

"Oh." Sam went back to his noodles, but Nat and Clint, who were sitting at their desks, were now watching Steve closely.

Steve smiled sweetly at them, and the next time he glanced round at the door, Bucky had appeared.

Steve set his food down and went over to greet him.

Bucky had his sportsbag on one shoulder, and was dressed in his usual black street clothes, today with a red patterned scarf.

"Hey," Steve said happily, grinning wide.

Bucky smiled back, though he seemed a little nervous. Neither of them moved in for a kiss or a hug, as had become their usual way of greeting at home. They hadn't had a talk about P.D.A.s or anything yet, and Bucky seemed shy in the squadroom, so Steve didn't want to push it.

"C'mon over," Steve invited, and set his hand on Bucky's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "The food only got here a few minutes ago."

He showed Bucky to his desk, where Sam glanced up at them, then did a double take.

"You remember my partner, Detective Sam Wilson," Steve said, and Bucky nodded.

"I do," Bucky said. "Hi, Sam."

"Sam, you remember Bucky?" Steve said, as Sam set down his food and stood up.

"Yeah," he said slowly, like he wasn't sure what was going on. "Yeah, man. How's it going?" He offered his hand, and Bucky shook it with a smile.

"Bucky's going to eat with us," Steve explained. "Otherwise I won't see him until tomorrow."

"Huh," Sam said, still looking bemused. "Okay..."

Nat and Clint got up and wandered over from their desks, obviously curious.

"Guys," Steve addressed them, "this is my boyfriend, Bucky. Bucky, Detectives Natasha Romanov, and Clint Barton."

"Hey," Bucky said, still standing close to Steve for reassurance.

Nat blinked slowly, showing surprise before she put on a friendly smile and offered out her hand. "Nice to meet you," she said, shaking Bucky's hand.

Clint came in next, offering more of a high five, with a big grin. "Hey, man! So this explains why Rogers won't come out for a drink with us lately."

Bucky smiled shyly, and looked to Steve.

"Well, I mean, we can join them sometime," Steve said to him. "We talk a lot about work thought, so it'd probably be a little boring for you."

Clint snorted a laugh. "Great excuse, Steve. Don't think you're getting out of it that easily."

Steve ignored Clint, and offered his chair to Bucky. "Why don't you sit, and we can eat." He got the carton of food he'd been saving for Bucky, placed it in front of him with a clean fork.

Sam sat back down at his desk, eyeing the pair of them, but he didn't say anything.

Steve picked up his own food and perched his ass on his desk, sort of guarding Bucky, especially as Natasha was looming.

"How long you guys been a thing, then?" Clint asked, dropping back into his chair and picking up his food.

"Two weeks," Steve and Bucky said together.

"Where did you meet?" Nat asked, smiling sweetly.

Steve realised then that he hadn't actually asked Bucky if he told people about his stripping work or not, and he looked at Bucky to gauge his reaction.

Except, Bucky was looking at Steve like he didn't know what to say either.

Sam rescued them by saying, "Mutual friend," in between mouthfuls of food.

Nat raised an eyebrow at him, but Sam made it sound convincing.

"And what do you do, Bucky?" Nat asked, turning her attention back to him.

Bucky cleared his throat and said, "I'm training to be a massage therapist."

"Ooh, I volunteer if you want to practise!" Clint interrupted. "My sciatica is killing me."

"Well, I do need to build up my client hours to get qualified," Bucky said with a grin. "I can't use _all_ the hours on Steve."

Sam coughed on his food, trying not to laugh.

Steve felt his cheeks turn pink, but he shrugged and said, "This is true. And I can confirm Bucky is very good with his hands."

"I'm in!" Clint declared. "Hook me up."

The chatter managed to distract Nat, and instead of further interrogation, she too perched on her desk and ate her food. Clint went on about his sciatica, Sam told him to stop talking about his ass, and things went smoothly from there.

 

They couldn't take too long, and after twenty minutes, Bucky said his goodbyes and Steve offered to walk him out of the squadroom.

"That went well," Steve said, as they reached the elevators in the hall. He pressed the button to call one.

The hallway was quiet, but they heard shouts from the far end of the hall: someone was being led away in cuffs, struggling with the two officers restraining him. Bucky seemed wary about the situation, and Steve knew the sounds and clamour of the precinct could be intimidating if someone wasn't used to it.

"Want me to come down with you?" he offered. "See you out safely?"

Bucky smiled at him. "I'm fine. You're busy."

The elevator opened, and it was empty. Steve grinned, took Bucky's hand and pulled him inside. "I've got time for that quick grope you promised me," he teased.

Bucky laughed, wrapping his arms around Steve and leaning in to kiss him. Steve kissed back as the doors closed.

 

After seeing Bucky off at the main entrance, and promising to text him later, Steve headed back up to his squadroom.

Sam looked at him as he approached.

Steve couldn't help a smile. "What?" he asked innocently.

Sam shrugged. "Nothing. You seem happy, is all."

"Yeah." Steve nodded, realising that was true. "I am."

Sam smiled back. "Great. Now all we gotta do is close this case, and _I'll_ be happy."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, and picked up one of the numerous files he had yet to look through.

"And," Sam added, "you owe me a drink and a catch up, Rogers. Don't be holding out on me like that again."

Steve grinned. "Close the case, and we'll go get a drink."

"That's right," Sam said, then chuckled. "And if your boy has any dancer friends for me, bring them along too."

"I guess I can ask," Steve said thoughtfully. "I think it's all guys at his club, though."

"Damn," Sam muttered. "Okay, new plan. Find a lead on this case that'll take us to a strip club with women."

"Well, it has been two weeks," Steve pointed out, "we're due a visit to one soon, I'm sure."

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Kudos and (nice!) comments fuel me!
> 
> I am on [tumblr](http://jro616.tumblr.com), come say hi!
> 
> And here is a [rebloggable post on tumblr](https://jro616.tumblr.com/post/178293025980/5-times-steve-rogers-was-shy-1-time-he-wasnt) for this fic.


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